Teddy Bears, Polyjuice and an Overdose of Pink
by Vinyaya
Summary: In which Draco is petulant, Harry is amused, romantic gestures play havoc with the Statute of Secrecy, and everyone wants to steal some of Draco's hair. Fluffy, ridiculous Harry/Draco SLASH, rated for language and non-explicit sexual situations.


Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me. Oh, and I don't know jack about quantum physics either. Enjoy the story!

**_~~~TEDDY BEARS, POLYJUICE AND AN OVERDOSE OF PINK~~~_**

When Draco Malfoy walks into the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes on the fourteenth of February, it's chaos. Little red memos are flying everywhere, giant teddy-bears are materializing on people's desks, and he has to bob about on his tiptoes to avoid treading underfoot the scores of chocolate frogs and walking heart shaped candies that seem to be organizing for battle.

"_Elladora, love of mine_

_Join me for a glass of wine!_

_No matter if you smile or frown,_

_In your eyes I always drown…"_

With a shudder, Draco pirouettes past the madness and into the office he shares with Harry Potter. Sighing with relief, he slams the door and leans up against it.

"Bloody buggering fuck," he remarks. Harry looks up sympathetically from his desk.

"I know," he agrees. "I bloody _hate_ Valentine's Day,"

"Elladora got a Valentine!" says Draco incredulously. "_Elladora Bulstrode_ is getting Valentines! This day negates all I ever thought I knew about the universe!"

"It's probably a joke, poor thing," says Harry. "Now if more of the hair on her upper lip grew on her _scalp_–"

"Elladora is irredeemable, Harry," Draco says firmly. "We have discussed this."

He walks over to his desk and sits down. It is covered with one-page reports.

"Fuck," he says, looking at Harry with trepidation. "What _is_ all this?"

"What did you expect?" Harry says with a smirk. "It's Valentine's Day! Every idiot in the Wizarding world is doing something profoundly stupid in the name of a 'grand gesture'!"

"And there's a _lot_ of idiots in the Wizarding world," Draco muses. "But honestly! What's this, sixteen cases? _Sixteen_? We won't be done 'til noon tomorrow!"

"Don't exaggerate," says Harry. "It'd have been more, but Dennis says the Obliviators are willing to take on a few extra for us this time, since there's a lot that's close together. There'll be a sudden spate of inexplicable amnesia in the Muggle World, but, well, that's all part of the job."

Draco nods. It's all part of the _Obliviators'_ job, that is. What he and Harry do for the Ministry is much more fun.

Draco and Harry are the only two members of the DMAC's Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee. Their job is to come up with marvelously absurd stories to feed Muggles when a large-scale magical event takes place, and there's too many Muggle witnesses to obliviate. They often also work with the Office of Misinformation, part of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. It's fieldwork, it's creative, and it's entertaining. Working with Harry Potter is the perk that Draco didn't expect, but thoroughly enjoys. He loves his job, all aspects of it.

Draco picks up the first report.

"Heart-shaped balloon, inflated to the size of large house," he reads out. "About a hundred Muggle witnesses. Magical evidence removed by Reversal Squad ." He looks up at Harry. "Should be easy, shall we get started?"

"Right," says Harry. He puts all the reports on his desk into a pink file, scowling.

"All the bloody supplies turned pink today," he grumbles. "I hope it's reversed by tomorrow, or I won't be responsible for my actions." Draco smiles, getting up.

"You'll have my full backing on that," he says. Harry smiles back, shrinking the file and putting it into the front pocket of his shirt. Their job demands that they be clad in Muggle attire, seeing as it involves a lot of contact with Muggles. Draco thinks Harry looks quite smart in a casual button-down and jeans.

Getting out of their office, they hop, skip and jump over the pink debris on the ground, making towards the large glass exit that separates their department from the rest of the Ministry's third floor.

"Potter! Malfoy!" shouts a robust voice, and a stately woman sends the rubbish on the ground flying out of her path, using her wand as a more dignified alternative to Draco and Harry's method.

"Hello, Circe," they nod, as she approaches them.

"I'm sure you have your hands full today, as you might have expected," she says, and then sighs, taking her glasses off and rubbing between her eyebrows for a second.

"I hate this day," she mutters. "Look, you might find new reports materializing while you're on the job, things are just explosive today. Thirty-seven cases and it's only ten in the morning… be very thankful you only have sixteen so far. And no pubs 'till you're done, all right? You won't be off duty 'til midnight, but no Guinness unless you actually find your hands free, understand? Or I will know." With a threatening little glare at them, she waddles off.

Harry and Draco look at each other.

"We don't disappear into pubs _that_ often," mutters Draco.

"No, only every day at about four in the afternoon," agrees Harry.

"Six hours of making up bunkum is enough to drive _anyone_ to drink," adds Draco self-righteously.

"Yeah, because there's large, excuse-requiring magical catastrophes everyday," Harry nods.

They walk over to the lifts and press the button. Harry sighs noisily.

"So I woke up this morning," he begins.

"Yes," says Draco attentively.

"And I realized that I'd left my toothbrush at Ron and Hermione's."

"From when you were babysitting their kids over the weekend while they took that little vacation?"

"Yeah. You know how rarely Hermione gets time off these days–"

"Yeah. Well, that's what comes of having even more ambition than a Slytherin, and not as much of a predilection for using shortcuts," says Draco sagely. Harry laughs, much to Draco's delight.

The lift doors open with a _ping_, Harry and Draco get onto it.

"I know. Anyway, so I floo into their place, because I wouldn't have thought I'd interrupt anything at _eight in the morning_,"

"Oh god, tell me you walked in on them having sex," begs Draco.

"Please," scoffs Harry. "I've walked in on them having sex about twenty times by now, you know that. Sex is tame and lovely compared to what I walked in on today."

"What?" says Draco eagerly. Harry laughs at the expression on his face, and Draco scowls at him and kicks his shin lightly. "Tell me!" he demands.

The lift doors open again, and they get off.

"Polyjuice play," says Harry with a shudder, his smile sliding right off his face.

"Oh rapture," Draco says happily. "Who were they playing?"

"You won't like it," Harry warns.

"Oh come on!"

"I tell you, you won't."

"Was it old people?" asks Draco impatiently.

"No," Harry replies. "It was you."

"ME?" yells Draco, scaring a wizard from Magical Maintenance into dropping his wand into a pile of confetti hearts.

"Who decorated in here today, Gilderoy Lockhart?" Harry exclaims in disgust.

"Potter!" whines Draco.

"Right," says Harry, sniggering. "So. They were polyjuiced as you and… you'll never guess!"

"I'm going to _smother_ you–"

"Pansy Parkinson!" Harry looks immeasurably smug; Draco glares sulkily.

"Not only that," says Harry, his face showing how much he savours this, "You were tied up. Leather shackles, all four corners of the bed. And Pansy was buggering you with a strap-on." Draco groans.

"Stealing hair should be illegal," he says mournfully. Harry grins.

"This is what Valentine's Day does to ordinarily sane people," he says wisely.

"Bollocks, Harry, Granger and the Weasel were never sane," snaps Draco, having heard quite a large number of stories regarding their sexual practices. Harry simply sniggers some more. Draco rolls his eyes and shoves him half-heartedly.

.

At the apparition cubicle, Harry sticks out his elbow and Draco takes his arm in a parody of Muggle gentry. It's a tradition they've long cultivated on the job, like many others. Draco slide-along Apparates with Harry, and after the twisting and darkness, they blink when they find themselves at their destination Apparition Point. Getting on the street, they see quite a throng of people chatting excitedly amongst themselves. Harry and Draco, from about four years of experience, make for the little newspaper-and-cigarettes shop at the street corner. A plump Muggle woman with a cheery-looking face looks at them appraisingly.

"Well, helloo there," she coos.

"Good morning, ma'am," Harry says pleasantly. "Might I buy some bubblegum from your fine establishment this morning?"

"Eh, dunno if I'd call it a 'stablishment," says the woman with a nice smile. "It's a living, though."

"Is that crowd out there the people who watched the balloon go up?" asks Draco casually. "I heard some young chap arranged for a flight in a heart-shaped balloon, as a treat for his fiancé."

"Oh, did you?" says the woman curiously. "For Valentine's Day, is it?"

"Yeah, I suppose so," Draco shrugs. "Grand gesture, you know?"

"Oh, I know how it is with young people," says the woman in typical fashion. "I was young once too, don't you know."

"I'm sure you were," Harry smiles charmingly, his sarcasm near undetectable. Unless you've spent as much time around it as Draco has, that is. He pays for the gum and they leave the shop.

"That should do it," mutters Harry, as they watch a young couple detach themselves from the crowd and sidle into the shop. "She seems the usual type. She'll pass on the story."

Sure enough, the people in the shop seem to be engaged in a conversation involving a lot of excited gasps, and in the case of the two women, clutchings of the chest and melty-looking expressions.

"Nauseating," mutters Draco.

"Couldn't agree more," Harry mutters back.

They walk back to the Apparition point, and Harry holds out his arm again. Draco takes it. They Apparate to destination two.

.

After their eighteenth case of the day, Draco is nearing the end of his tether.

"What I wouldn't give for a wonderful, soothing pint of Guinness right now…" he groans exhaustedly.

"You heard Circe, no Guinness till our hands are free," Harry says sternly. "We've still got five cases in our file, and they don't seem to be slowing down."

"But Harry, at this rate we won't be able to drink at _all_ today," complains Draco.

"It's just one day," says Harry bracingly. "Come on. We can take a break for lunch. My treat."

"Thank you. You're a god," Draco sighs. Harry laughs and puts an arm around his shoulders.

"No, I'm just the Savior of All Wizardkind," he says in an imitation of the way reporters refer to him. Draco snickers.

.

"Oh, you were priceless last year," says Harry, hooting with laughter over their food. They're at the nearest magical restaurant, in a booth with _silencio_s built into the boundaries, as is the norm in most decent magical restaurants.

"Whatever," Draco mumbles in embarrassment.

"No, no – I have not seen anything as funny before or since," insists Harry.

"That's lovely," says Draco sarcastically.

"I'd like to hear the story again, Draco, please?" says Harry with a stupid grin that makes Draco want to either punch him or kiss him into a daze.

"I was at the office," he grinds out instead. "And Mandy Brocklehurst walked in. She sat down on my desk and undid her winter coat. She was wearing nothing underneath and had a poem painted on her breasts – I don't know why you love hearing this story so much, Harry. You were _there_." Draco glares at him.

"I love hearing it because of the way your face goes when you tell it," says Harry, smirking in a fond sort of way. "You get all molar-grindey and half-mortified, half-furious. It's funny to watch."

"I hate you," Draco complains.

"I'm sure you do," says Harry, laughing. "What was the poem again? _Draco, you make me tremble and quiver, your manly demeanour gives me the shivers–_"

"Fuck you," growls Draco. "Oh, shut it – what about you, then? With Romilda Vane?"

"You _know_ she polyjuiced herself!"

"So will you ever tell me who as?"

"No!"

"Can't be more embarrassing than finding yourself snogging _Vane_," says Draco snidely.

"It's not about how embarrassing it is," says Harry. "Anyway, it wasn't nearly as bad as the time when Dennis Creevey asked you out, remember? Your second year at the DMAC?"

"Oh Merlin, yes," says Draco, shuddering. "How could I ever forget? Why do people think waiting 'til Valentine's Day gives them a better chance?"

"That's not why they wait, you git," laughs Harry. "It's supposed to be more romantic!"

"Bollocks," says Draco. "Got rejected on Valentines Day too, didn't he? Hope _that_ was enough romance for him! Merlin, but it was tense at the office for a few days, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. I almost made you go to him and tell him you'd changed your mind," Harry says reminiscently. "You say no to dating the top Obliviator on the team, and suddenly, you get assignments that urge you to explain to Muggles why there are so many people flying about on broomsticks."

"Bastards," Draco shakes his head. "Oh, I have a good Valentine's Day story," he adds wickedly.

"Do tell," drawls Harry.

"Oh, you know this one," smirks Draco. "It goes, _his eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad, his hair is as dark as a blackboard, I wish he was mine, he's really–_"

"Oi!" says Harry, laughing. He flicks a piece of bread at Draco who dodges it.

"–_divine, the hero who conquered the Dark Lord!_" Harry shakes his head good-naturedly as Draco keels over with laughter.

.

Their twenty-third case of the day involves a hippogriff.

"This is an Obliviator job," says Draco angrily. "_How_ do they expect us to explain away a _hippogriff_?"

"Dunno," Harry says. "What I'd like to know is why they haven't sent in some poor sod from Misinformation yet."

"I expect Misinformation's got bigger fish to fry today," Draco sighs glumly. "Morons trying to woo their beloveds from the backs of dragons… some idiot thinking a Unicorn foal might be a good Valentine's Day present for their equally idiotic girlfriend… some fool or other trying to drag a kelpie in for a romantic ride in the water… who knows? I don't profess to understand these people's idea of romance, Harry."

"You're _so_ arrogant," smirks Harry.

"I'm an intelligent person," Draco corrects him self-righteously. "Most wizards aren't."

"Of course," says Harry, surveying the panicked Muggles on the street. "What about me, I suppose you think I'm thick as a troll with a head-injury?"

"'Course not," scoffs Draco. "I wouldn't work with you if you weren't at least as clever as I am."

"High praise," smiles Harry with a friendly roll of the eyes. "Come on, then. I suppose we'll have to take this one on our own. Wands at the ready, I reckon. An illusion or two. Maybe we can convince them that it was some sort of show. We'll use a weak blanket Confundus if we need it."

Draco nods and adjusts the wand-holster inside his sleeve. They plunge head-first into the raucous masses.

.

"Ginny's seeing Marcus Flint," Harry remarks as they make their way over to the next Apparition Point, which is a bit far off.

"Marcus," Draco shakes his head. "I hated that bastard. He kept hinting that I might find myself off the team if I didn't keep getting them 'tokens of my appreciation',"

"You gave him that idea," Harry reminds him, "Handing out new brooms to get a spot on the team."

"That was in the spirit of competition!" Draco says hotly.

"Right," says Harry. "_'You may be the best seeker this school has seen in a century, Harry Potter, but MY daddy can afford lots of brooms, so I guess that means I'm better than you!'_" he says, in a mockingly high-pitched voice.

"Sod off," grouses Draco. "You were just as much of an arse back then as I was. _'No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy! Oh here, let me sign some photos for you, Creevey! I'm only a fourth year, but I'm going to be a pain-in-the-neck, arse-kissing, extra Hogwarts Champion anyway!'_"

"Shove it," Harry says lightly. "You know most of that wasn't true."

"'_I'm only eleven and I never touched a broom before, but I'm going to catch a falling remembrall by making a spectacular dive, so that everyone gasps and applauds and my arch-rival is shown up properly–'_"

"Jealous little bugger," snickers Harry.

"I like you so much better now," Draco says, punching Harry affectionately. "Much less drama, much less self-righteous priggishness – aren't you glad you met me that day you were drowning your sorrows at the Leaky?"

"Very," Harry says with a smile.

"Where would you be if you hadn't run into me, eh?" Draco continues. "In the Auror Department, trying to catch some small-time racketeers involved in some sad little patented-potion counterfeiting scam. Bored out of your mind, possibly married to the Weaslette, getting home at nine in the night, having some unsatisfactory sex, and going to bed until the next identical, monotonous day."

"So full of yourself," laughs Harry. "And unsatisfactory sex is better than no sex," he adds.

"That's out of choice," Draco says. "You _could_ have sex if you wanted. People throw themselves at you all the time, even now. You just… throw them off, I can't imagine why. If you were married to Ginevra, though, you'd be obliged to have sex with her, even if you didn't want to. That's what marriage is. Practically rape."

"Ron and Hermione would beg to disagree," Harry says. "Anyway, I don't have sex because there's no one worth having sex _with_," he adds lightly.

"Ah," says Draco, shaking his head. "That's one habit I haven't yet been able to get you to abandon, isn't it? Your unhealthy addiction to serious relationships."

"That's one habit I'm never abandoning, Draco," says Harry. "You can have all the meaningless sex you like. I'm happy in my relationship with my right hand until someone's ready to take over, _full time_."

"Sap," says Draco affectionately.

"Slut," says Harry, grinning.

They Disapparate to their next destination.

.

"It's one of those new test products," Harry says convincingly. The freaked young man looks askance at the two of them.

"There's a very intricate mechanism to it," Draco says. "We were sent here to see the response it would garner. Not very pleased with what we hear, I can tell you."

"No mechanism could turn a car into a giant teddy bear," says the freaked young man, shivering. "I know what I saw!"

"You don't know what modern technology can achieve," Harry says bracingly, while Draco surreptitiously sends the pulsating blue light of a gullibility charm towards the freaked young man. "It's all modern physics. It works at a molecular level, it has to do with sub-atomic particles. When the photons react with the electrons, the chemical composition of the object changes. So they can change the chemicals that make the object a car into the chemicals that make it a teddy bear."

"Ah," says the slightly less freaked young man. "So you mean the photons affect the charges on the electrons, changing their wavelength?"

"_What_?" says Draco incredulously.

"I'm doing my post-graduate degree in quantum mechanics," says the young man.

"Bloody hell," says Draco, rubbing his forehead.

.

"I don't know how we even got these jobs," Harry says, when they're walking back to the Apparition Point, having given up and Confunded the man (making him convince himself that he understands the theory behind the car-bear transformation, and then go around telling people about it). "You did one year of Muggle Studies in Hogwarts, and I did none."

"Yeah, but they hire Muggleborns without _any_ years of Muggle Studies," says Draco. "And you grew up with Muggles. And we applied together, so I suppose they decided it would be better to hire two blokes who already knew each other, because we'd have to spend so much time working together. Besides, not too many people apply for this job, you know."

"I wonder why," Harry muses.

"Well, it's not _the_ most high-paying job in the ministry, I suppose," says Draco. "And a lot of people don't want so much contact with Muggles. I like it because it's not all grunt work, you know, it's got some creativity in it. But a lot of wizards like their jobs to have structure and routine."

"I suppose," Harry says. "I mean, I'd probably be feeling the pinch of the low pay myself, if I were only relying on the job and my inheritance. I don't like dipping into my vault too often, I'm afraid I'll get complacent."

"Good thing you took my advice," says Draco, smirking. "You had so many _principles_ before I met you after Hogwarts. God, it's a wonder you weren't tied into knots, trying to do everything you had to without overstepping your tight little moral boundaries."

"Much as it pains me to say this, you're right. I like being rich without having to do much," Harry says. "I still have more boundaries than you do, though."

"I know," groans Draco. "I'll take what I can get. You're always going to be an absolute Gryffindor."

"Too right," Harry assures him.

"That was funny though," sniggers Draco. "You talking out of your arse about photons and electrons."

They giggle the rest of the way to the Apparition Point.

.

"There's candy everywhere!" yells a panicked man, skidding past them. A small tsunami of heart-shaped, pink-foil-covered bits of chocolate follows him. Harry jumps onto the curb, swearing, and drags Draco with him.

"Where," he snarls. "Is. The. Reversal. Squad."

"We've got it!" yells a voice from behind them. A team is Apparating in with a flurry of cloaks.

"Sorry about the delay!" shouts Adrian Pucey. "Got caught up at the one in Finchley. Ernie Macmillan transfigured his house into a rocket ship. Says he thought he'd put up wards – stupid idiot – FULL STEAM AHEAD, YOU LOT! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" Looking harried, he runs off into the fray.

.

At ten thirty at night, they discover that they've exhausted the cases in the file, and no more seem to be appearing.

"Yes!" hollers Draco, pumping his fist maniacally.

"Yes!" agrees Harry, doing an impromptu jig on the spot.

"Alcohol," suggests Draco vociferously.

"Food," adds Harry with an intelligent nod.

"Pub?" enquires Draco.

"Restaurant," replies Harry with a shake of the head.

"But alcohol costs more in restaurants," Draco says petulantly.

"You're heir of the Malfoy fortune," says Harry patiently.

"Only when I turn thirty, you dolt," snaps Malfoy. "The vault's wards still reject me. Father isn't dead yet, you know. I say we go to a pub; I don't earn too much feeding lies to Muggles."

"Sod that," Harry exclaims. "I get paid three thousand Galleons for standing around saying '_It's easier to save the world on the Nimbus Eight Thousand_'. Let's go to a restaurant. I need something substantial. I'll get the drinks."

"Ah, I forgot who I worked with," says Draco, smirking as they Disapparate to Diagon Alley.

.

"Pansy and I never even went out with each other," Draco complains. "Why on earth would they think we'd be a hot pair to polyjuice into? She looks like a _pug_, for Agrippa's sake!"

"That's the point," nods Harry through his lager, "Ron and Hermione's role-playing games thrive on pushing together a pair that probably wouldn't get together. It's part of the whole taboo feel of it, I expect. Remember when they said they wanted to roleplay Cho Chang and Dedalus Diggle?"

"Don't remind me," groans Draco. "Why would they _tell_ us something like that? What gave then the idea that we needed to know?"

"We were supposed to get them a hair from Cho," Harry reminds him.

"Oh yeah, I remember wishing we didn't work so closely with the Office of Misinformation."

Harry laughs.

"It wasn't awful, though," he says thoughtfully, a minute later.

"What?" asks Draco curiously.

"Seeing you naked. Not as bad as I thought it might be –"

"Oi!" objects Draco.

"– all spindly and pale –"

"I have a fabulous chest I'll have you know –"

"– arse all but nonexistent," chuckles Harry.

"– and a perfectly rounded arse!" finishes Draco hotly. Harry giggles at him.

"I saw," he says, leaning across the table and patting Draco's blonde head. "It wasn't bad, as arses go." Draco fumes.

.

"I saw your ad for Ms. Mackenzie's Magical Fingernail PotionTM in the Daily Prophet yesterday," Draco says.

"Oh, did you?" Harry replies. "Did I look too done up in that one? I thought they put too much Sleekeazy's in my hair that day."

"You looked all right. I think they made your voice a little chirpier than it is for the paper though."

"Stupid talking advertisements," grumbles Harry.

"Fingernail potion, though?" enquires Draco. "So you're letting go of that ridiculous principle of yours about only endorsing products you actually like?"

"Never," growls Harry. "You may have talked me into endorsements, Malfoy, but I'm never going to be a money-hungry sellout." Draco rolls his eyes.

"You're stupid," he says. "Let me see your fingernails." Harry holds a hand out; Draco grabs it and examines the nails.

"Not bad," he pronounces. "That's a decent potion."

"I know," grins Harry. "Wouldn't have endorsed it if it weren't."

.

"Valentine's Day is so ridiculous," says Harry, looking over at a couple on the next table. The waiter is bringing them a slice of rich chocolate cake each, for dessert. The waiter winks at the man, and Draco smirks at Harry.

"I bet she'll find the wedding ring after two minutes," he says.

"Nah," says Harry. "I bet it'll be by the fourth bite."

"Much too soon," tuts Draco.

The woman eats her cake slowly, smiling at her boyfriend in a crinkly way between bites.

"She knows," mutters Draco.

"Yeah," says Harry, counting bites. Four are up soon, and no sign of the ring.

"Right," says Harry. "I bet they find it within the first minute." They don't. The woman eats excruciatingly slowly.

"I win," smiles Draco after the woman finds the ring a second after the two minutes are up. He sticks his tongue out at Harry while the woman proceeds to overreact completely and shed copious tears.

"Why is she so surprised?" wonders Harry. "She _knew_!"

"I _win_," says Draco insistently, nudging Harry's leg with his foot. "What are you going to give me?"

"What do you _want_, you whiny little sod?" says Harry laughing.

"Hmmm," muses Draco. "I'll come up with something."

.

After dinner, they amble down Diagon Alley aimlessly, somewhat drunk.

"For –for Valentine'sh Day," Harry begins earnestly, "Today washn't sho – sho –"

"Bad?" suggests Draco.

"Bad," agrees Harry. "I bet, I bet we had a better Valentine'sh day with each _other_, than people had with their, their, their whadyoucall –"

"With their people," agrees Draco. "Like Ron and Herm, Hermoyne. Hermonia." Draco tends to be much nicer to Harry's friends when he is drunk.

"YES!" agrees Harry enthusiastically, clapping Draco on the back, and then draping his arm around him. "Know what they shay?"

"What do they say, Harry?" asks Draco, putting an arm around Harry in reciprocation.

"They shay I've got – gotter crush. On you. HAH!"

"Harry, you're shouting," giggles Draco maniacally. "They can hear you in, in the Daily Prophet!"

"Oh," says Harry, looking around in fear and dropping his voice to a barely-audible whisper. "Hate the Daily Prophet, Draco," he confesses. "Shodding bashtards," he adds knowledgeably.

"We shouldn't Apparate," Draco says, still giggling. "We'll get whatsit – flinched. Pinched."

"Wanna walk?" says Harry. "Grimmauld Place ishn't too far," he adds, gesturing wildly in a random direction.

"A'right," agrees Draco, his giggles subsiding. He clings to Harry as they stumble out of Diagon Alley.

By the time they reach Grimmauld Place, they have sobered up somewhat.

"Want to come inside?" Harry asks. "You can sober up with some coffee before you floo home."

"_Do_ you?" Draco asks.

"Do I what?"

"Have a crush on me?"

"What?" asks Harry, smiling.

"You _do_ flirt with me all the time," Draco says.

"Does it matter if I do?" laughs Harry. "You know I want a serious relationship. I know you want to, what do the Muggles call it? Sow your wild whatsits. Oats? Oats, I think."

"Well, I – I might want to give a real relationship a go, sometime," says Draco carefully.

"Which time?" says Harry, growing serious and looking into Draco's face. "Don't just – don't just drop hints about that, Draco, not unless you mean it."

"Why?" asks Draco. Harry sighs.

"Just don't do it," he says firmly.

"Okay," says Draco evenly. "Oh, and I know what I want from you for the wedding ring bet you lost this evening."

"What?" asks Harry.

"I want to know who Romilda Vane polyjuiced herself as to get you to snog her," says Draco. Harry looks at him. Then he looks away and sighs again.

"_You_, all right?" he says, sounding exasperated. "It was you, and you _know_ it. You _know_ I like you, you know I have for _ages_ now. But I won't just be one of your casual fucks, Draco, I don't care what you think of my principles. If I ever get to make you mine, I won't let you go. So don't – don't casually drop hints about liking me too, like you're doing, unless you want something more out of it than you usually do."

Draco leans towards Harry and, cupping his face in both his hands, turns it towards him.

"Where," he says slowly, "Are all these people getting my goddamned hair?" Harry breaks into a wide smile, Draco thinks he's beautiful. "Am I shedding it? Like a cat? Will I go bald in a couple of years?" he continues, smiling back.

"Harry," he says, his smile and voice both growing softer. "I think I'm ready for more."

Harry's arms steal slowly around his waist, and Draco slings his around Harry's neck. Even though it's dark, he can see Harry's green eyes sparkle at him, as Harry leans his forehead on Draco's.

"Are you sure?" whispers Harry. "You have to be sure."

Draco gazes at him, nods once, and then leans in to kiss him. Harry kisses back fervently, his arms tightening around Draco. _Yes_, thinks Draco. _I was right to wait. I was right to go slow, to make sure this was what I wanted. It's definitely what I want._

.

When Draco wakes up the next morning, he finds himself in Harry's bed, wrapped up in Harry's arms. He smiles and turns towards him. Harry grunts, and blearily opens his eyes.

"Hi," says Draco, reaching out to smooth his hair.

"Hi," says Harry sleepily, leaning forwards to rub his nose against Draco's. Draco kisses his lips with his mouth closed, leaving the tongue action for after they brush their teeth. Then Harry groans and buries his head in the side of Draco's neck.

"What," says Draco, amused.

"Do you realize?" Harry enquires despairingly. "We're a cliché! We got together on Valentine's Day!"

"Oh, bugger." says Draco in dismay. "Harry, d'you think we can break up and get back together tonight instead?"

"No, I told you," Harry says. "I have you now, and I'm not letting you go." He tightens his arms around Draco to prove it.

"Sap," teases Draco, relaxing. "It was probably past midnight anyway."

"Mmm," says Harry wittily, and kisses Draco's jaw. Draco snuggles further into Harry's arms and decides that thinking is overrated.

**_~~~END~~~_**

**_A/N: _**_If you like it, leave a review :)_


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